Page 11 of Mad Love

5

Blaise

After I met with my family, I took a flight to California. On the private jet, I inventoried my assets. Once I pay my team, I’ll have a little over three thousand dollars in my bank account. I’m grateful for what I have, but what I need most is time.

The elevator ride to the private office on the top floor seems to take forever, the air stifled with testosterone. Surrounding us are Maddox’s security guards. Standing next to Granger is my assistant, Collins. In her hand is a briefcase with the proposal. We put it together on the flight over. The rest of my team is pouring over my kidnapping case.

For now, I’ve instructed them to steer clear of my family. I don’t want to give my kidnapper a reason to expose my family’s secret. It’s not his secret to tell.

Father was strict but loving, and now, I’m to believe he was a monster, cut from the same cloth as Cillian McCabe, a ruthless mobster?

The elevator dings and the doors open. We step out and approach the double glass doors.

“Blaise, are you sure about this?” Collins hands me the briefcase.

I nod. “It’s the only option that will buy me time.”

I glance at the glass doors separating me from the man waiting inside his spacious office. This is the part where I go in alone.

On the outside looking in, the office is sterile. White walls. No paintings to liven up the space. The chairs are a solid tan with no lines or designs. Even the lone occupant in the room blends in with the blandness, with his crisp white shirt and unimaginative simple blue tie.

“Are you sure you want us to leave, Blaise? Granger and I don’t mind waiting.”

I give Collins and Granger a slight shake of my head. He is wickedly handsome with the scar across his face, and Collins is flawlessly beautiful with her big brown eyes, naturally sun-kissed skin, and lopsided smile.

You would think Granger would fall hopelessly in love with the Asian beauty, but Granger isn’t into quirky and meddlesome. I wonder what kind of woman will bring my brooding friend to his knees.

“Thank you for being my friends, and cross your fingers this works. If it does, I will see you two soon.”

“And if it doesn’t?” Granger crosses his arms over his chest, looking like he’s ready to knock heads together. Or at the very least knock Maddox’s head into the wall if Maddox refuses my offer.

One of the security guards opens the door for me. It’s my cue to move it or I’ll lose my chance, and the three of us will be escorted back down to the lobby.

“I haven’t thought that far,” I answer.

I haven’t. It’s overwhelming knowing that my grandfather’s death will be lambasted all over the news and the tabloids. It’ll also be revealed that I am, for the most part, broke. But my showing up for a meeting with Maddox has nothing to do with money and everything to do with protection. I text messaged him for a meeting to discuss handing over the car to him, and wasn’t surprised when he answered immediately.

From Granger’s report on him, Maddox has a one-track mind. If he wants the car, he’ll laser-focus on getting the car. I admire his tenacity, though being on the receiving end of it isn’t pleasant.

“Good luck, Blaise.”

Collins leans in, and we do this air kiss thing, our lips not touching one another’s cheeks. It’s pathetic that I can’t stand to be touched even by those closest to me.

Straightening to my full height, and with my shoulders pulled back, I walk over the threshold and up to Maddox’s desk in the middle of the room. He watches me with his hands tented over his mouth. What is he thinking?

From the coldness in his eyes, he doesn’t like me. I don’t blame him. Though we shared cheesy banter last night, I am not his type. I’m too quiet and strange for his tastes. Maybe more on the boyish side too, with my lean body and small breasts.

I’ve seen pictures of the women he’s been linked to, and they are full figured, big breasted, and tall, and he is into blondes and redheads. Good. If I’m not his type, there’s less of a chance of being touched by him.

I lower myself into the chair across from him, pull the proposal out of the briefcase, and slide the contract over. After he’s done reading what I’ve written, he pushes his chair back, comes around his desk, and rests his hip on the corner, forcing me to glance up at him.

Gritting my teeth, I move my chair back and stand with my gloved hands clasped behind my back. For this arrangement to work, he has to see me as an equal and not as the conceding party. There’s not much I’m giving away except for my parents’ prized car. Parting with the car Dad proposed to Mom in weighs me with this deep loss, second to getting the news from Arthur that my grandfather passed away this morning.

“Why do you need to stay at my place when you have men, money, and a gated and secure estate at your disposal?”

“Your place has fingerprint access and it’s on the fortieth floor.”

“You also require use of my security detail?”

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